


Go-Gurt

by theycallmespooky



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8505955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theycallmespooky/pseuds/theycallmespooky
Summary: This is based on a dream that I had the other night.Gillian Anderson was straight up obsessed with Go-gurt and was eating it everywhere all the time.No joke.





	

If Beyonce has 24 hours in a day, so do I, she thinks to herself as she rifles through the refrigerator, making an attempt to find something for the boys to take for lunch besides week old bread and moldy cheese. I don’t even remember the last time I went grocery shopping. There’s literally nothing in the house I can send them to school with. 

“Mom, there’s no milk.”

Grabbing a fresh steaming mug of milky coffee, Gillian walks over to Oscar and runs a gentle hand through his soft hair, kissing the top of his head. She wraps her free arm around him and pulls him close. “You’ll just have to have dry cereal. What do you want from the store, sweetie? I’m gonna go today.” 

“Poptarts, popsicles, ice cream, Coke, candy, chocolate, chips, cookies, pizza, more ice cream, Go-gurt...” he rattles off as he crunches on the dry cereal, crumbs flying everywhere. 

“Hold up,” she throws a hand up and gulps down more coffee. “Your requests are ridiculous and even you know that, bud.” 

Gillian quickly walks to her purse by the front door and pulls out two bills, giving one to each of her kids as she comes back to the kitchen, “Lunch money for today until I get some food in this house.” 

“Thanks mom! Come on,” Oscar says to his brother, “I heard them honk,” he grabs his backpack and rushes to leave. 

“Bye boys, have a good day at school!” she yells after them at the front door and waves at Mrs. Tommen. Past the days of getting hugs and kisses before school, I see. 

\------------- 

The house is quiet. She finishes cleaning out the barren fridge, not that there was much left to do. My first day home in weeks and I have to go grocery shopping. Why the hell did I give Jennie the week off? Gillian washes the dishes and wipes the counters down. Can’t I just stay in my pajamas all day in bed eating chocolate and watching trashy TV for once? 

Walking upstairs and down the hall to her bedroom, she rounds the corner and spies her bed; messy, unkempt, empty. Sighing, Gillian flips on the master bathroom light and starts getting ready for the day. She showered yesterday so she settles for a low and messy bun, not that her hair styling skills were anything but average. She turns on the iHome with her old iPod plugged in, scrolling through to find some upbeat music to get the ball rolling. She settles for a playlist of her favorite songs. Staring into the mirror, Gillian stares back at the unfamiliar face in the reflection. She runs her hands under her eyes, wiping away three-day-old mascara. God, I look like death. 

Stalking across the cold floor form the bathroom to her armoire, she stretches her arms over her head and lets out a guttural groan, bones cracking and creaking. She opens the doors and looks at her small selection of clean clothes. Add laundry to the never-ending list. 

Settling on a pair of old jeans and a white t-shirt, she peels off her comfortable, silk pajamas and tosses them into the hamper. She puts on her clothes and walks to her bed where she strips her bed of all sheets, blankets, and pillow cases. I don’t even remember the last time I actually washed my bedding. She gathers everything into a big armful of towering blankets and carefully walks downstairs to the laundry room. 

She loads the washer, adds the detergent, and shuts the lid; pushing buttons to start the load. At least I remember how to use this, she jokes. 

Being home is a rare moment for Gillian. Being home alone is even rarer. Sipping a fresh cup of coffee, she sits on the couch in the deep corner and stretches her feet to the ottoman. Trying to just enjoy a few moments of quiet, she closes her eyes. Moments later she throws her eyes open again. I can’t relax. It’s official. She struggles to get up from the couch and goes to the coat closet to search for a pair of shoes. Settling on a sandal wedge, she slips her feet into them; it’s a warm fall day as the summer stretches into October. 

Gillian grabs her purse and double checks she has her house keys. Preferring to walk or use public transportation, she settles on driving just in case there are bags and bags of food to bring home. She locks the door behind her, making sure it’s completely locked. 

Walking down the stone path to the sidewalk, she opens and closes the wrought iron gate. Her neighbor, Mrs. Dabney, was out watering her garden. 

“Hi, Mrs. Dabney!” Gillian waves at the woman who waves back with a smile. 

On the drive to the market, she struggles to remember what her kids requested. Something yogurt? She’ll find it when she gets to the store. 

\------------ 

The sliding doors pull apart and she enters through the doorway. To her right are a few shopping carts so she grabs one and starts to the fresh produce section. Shop on the outsides of the store, no aisles, she remembers her mother telling her since she was a girl. 

Spinach, kale, apples, bananas, grapes (but only the purple kind), onions, summer squash, zucchini find their way into the cart. She goes to the deli and takes the next number in line, 67. She looked at her ticket; 63. Browsing around the deli area waiting for her number to be called, she finds fresh baked bread and tosses a loaf into the cart, careful as to not squish it. 

Next to the deli is the dairy section. Yogurt something...yogurt… She browses the shelves for a familiar name that stands out. 

GO-GURT! Excited for her small victory, she grabs a few boxes and puts them in the cart. There, now nobody is gonna be crying over lost Go-gurt. 

Finishing scrounging the store, she pushes the cart up to the checkout and chooses the line with the least amount of people. She loads the groceries onto the moving conveyer belt and glanced up at the magazines out of habit. Thank God. She sighs a great sigh of relief. Another week without being on magazine cover is a blessing.

\-----------

Gillian unloads the groceries from the car and goes back and forth until the trunk is empty and the counters are full of bagged food. “I can’t believe I forgot the fucking reusable bags,” she curses under her breath through gritted teeth, kicking the door shut behind her. 

She puts the groceries to their respectable spots and looks at the now full fridge. “So satisfying.” Gillian goes to the laundry room to switch out the loads, putting a fresh scented dryer sheet into the dryer. 

Groceries, check. Laundry, work in progress. In the kitchen, she looks at the time illuminated above the stovetop. 11:34. Her stomach starts gurgling so she opens the fridge for a snack. She stands there. And she stares. Hoping for something to jump out to her. 

Hmm… she thinks as she picks up the rectangular box. What the hell.

She tears open the box and pulls out a stick of Go-gurt. She inspects it, attempts to open the package with her teeth and cuts her lip on the sharp plastic. “How the fuck do kids open these?!” She reaches for a pair of scissors and cuts the tip off. She brings it to her mouth and pushes the yogurt up through the tube into her mouth. Huh…that’s…interesting. 

She finishes the tube and looks at the wrapper. Then goes to the fridge and grabs another tube and walks into the living room to her laptop on the couch, Go-gurt hanging from between her lips. She opens up her email and dozens of unread emails flood her inbox. And so it begins…

Filtering through the pages of emails, she sees one with the subject line blank. She looks at the sender. David…

G,

Here’s one of our 5 emails a year.

Love,  
D

Smiling, she looks to see when he sent it: last night. Or early this morning, depending on how you look at it. They haven’t spoken for a few days because of their crazy opposite schedules. She closes her laptop and picks up her near-dead cell phone. Unlocking it with her thumb, she scrolls through her list of contacts until she finds his name; first and last, professional and unsuspecting. 

Gillian pushes the call button, and it rings a few times. Then she hears the dreaded “Please leave your name and number after the beep. Beeeeeeep.” 

“Hey you, it’s me. Just wanted to say hi. Call me later?” She leaves a simple voicemail: no urgency, no sadness, no anger. 

Getting up to switch laundry loads again, she sweeps throughout the rest of the house for stray clothes still needing to be washed. Picking up clothes from the boys’ floor, Gillian hums “Drunk in Love” to herself. “Surfin’ all in this good good,” she belts out, using the shoe she picked up as a make-shift microphone. In the laundry room yet again, she sorts the clothes she gathered into darks, lights, and whites, the darks taking the lead in what needs to be washed. 

She looks at the time. She still has a few hours before the boys need to be picked up from school. She then calculates how many hours until the award dinner and debates if she has enough time to get a quick nap in. 

As she walks into the kitchen for a glass of water, the doorbell rings. Who in the hell…? 

\------------- 

Throwing the door open, she grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him inside, arms snaking around him. 

“Oh my god,” is all she can manage to get out, barely audible. 

“Thought I’d surprise you,” he pulls back and looks down at her. Gillian reaches up and pulls his head down to hers, kissing him.

“David…” she pulls back, placing her forehead on his. She instantly relaxed as he pulled her close. 

“I missed you, too,” he dreamily says as he gives her butterfly kisses, “I just couldn’t wait another few weeks.” 

Walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge out of habit, David peers in and sees it’s miraculously full. 

“Damn, G, got enough food?” he glances over to her while still hunched over. She reaches around him and pulls out another Go-gurt. 

“Have you ever had these things? They’re like…oddly addicting,” she says as she struggles opening it up again. 

“Yeah, when the kids were younger. Those stupid sharp edges would cut the corners of their mouth and they looked like the Joker,” he grabs it from her hands and tears it open with his teeth, stealing a bit before handing it back to her. 

Smiling a thank you, she follows him into the living room and sits on the couch. 

“So. The award tonight. I thought that maybe…you know…you could come with me since you’re here? I really don’t want to go alone…” she looks down into her lap where she’s wringing her hands nervously. “I know that this could be huge for us, but I’m just so, so sick of hiding. It’s so tiring.” 

“Are you being serious? You’re really ready for this?” he grabs her hand and matches his fingers to hers, fingertips touching. 

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have asked,” she chuckles and shakes her head. “What the hell am I even thinking?” 

David looks at her and after a long pause, “You know what? Fuck it! Let’s do this.” He stands up, holding his hand out to her to help her off the couch, “Where can a guy get a suit?” 

\------------- 

Gillian walks to the school to pick up her boys. They come running out of the building and fly down the stairs to her, talking loud and quickly about their day. 

“Settle down,” she laughs as she throws her arms around either son, leading them home, “It’s Thursday, not Friday.” 

Upon arriving at the house, the boys fly through the door and see that David is sitting on the couch messing around with his laptop. 

“Daviddddddddd!” The boys shout as they drop their backpacks on the floor and run towards him. David opens his arms and they fly into him. 

“My dudes!” he matches their enthusiasm, “How goes it?” Gillian laughs out loud at him trying to be hip; it doesn’t sound right coming out of his mouth. 

“Boys!” she shouts from the kitchen, “Go pick up your stuff and bring it to your room. Your snacks are on the counter. I’ve got to start getting ready for tonight so I need you to start your homework. Stat. Piper’s gonna be here soon to watch you.” 

“Wahoo!” they yell in unison as they high-five each other. “Scary movies and pizza!” Oscar exclaims. 

\------------- 

The car ride to the award show was quiet. They sat next to each other in the back seat, looking out their respective windows. Gillian and David discussed earlier what was to happen on the red carpet. 

“David, maybe we shouldn’t do this,” she looks over to him. “I don’t think it’s anyone’s business but our own.” She’s second guessing her suggestion for David coming with. 

“Gill, you do what you want to do. If you really don’t want to do this, I can have the driver drop me off a few blocks away; I’ll go back home and wait for you there?”

She grabs his hand and gives it a slight squeeze, “James,” she looks at the driver through the rear view mirror, “could you pull over please?” Looking over at David, she searches his eyes for some kind of emotion. He gives her an understanding smile. “I’m not ready either,” he leans in and he whispers to her, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. 

Unbuckling the seatbelt, David stretches over to Gillian and gives her a quick kiss. “I’ll be waiting at home for you. Have fun, be safe, and don’t do anything stupid,” he mumbles against her lips as he rattles off his mini checklist. 

“Dave, thank you. Really. I’m sorry…” 

A car honks behind them. 

“I’ll see you at home,” he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a Go-gurt, and tosses it onto her lap. “For when you’re hungry.” He winks at her and shuts the door. 

\------------ 

“Looking radiant as always tonight, we have Gillian Anderson here wearing…?”

“Sophia Kah and Jimmy Choo,” she tells the reporter. 

“Stunning. Absolutely stunning,” the reporter gapes at Gillian. She doesn’t understand why all the women reporters kind of just stare at her. 

“Thank you,” she smiles modestly. God, will people ever ask me about anything BUT fashion?

“So what was your initial reaction upon hearing you won this award?” 

“Oh I was so incredibly shocked,” she explains, “I’m really very honored.” 

There are cameras flashing and blinding her, people shouting her name and she starts to feel overwhelmed. She thanks the interviewer and goes to her agent standing near the back. 

“This is way too much right now,” she opens her clutch and removes the Go-gurt David gave her. It’s still cold. “I’m starving.” She rips open the tube with her teeth just as she saw him do earlier, and starts eating the yogurt. 

“Gill, are you being serious right now?” her agent looks at her, mouth open as she watches Gillian chug her snack. 

Cameras flash even more rapidly as she realizes they’re all getting their money shots of her. Gillian turns around and holds up her Go-gurt and flashes her million-dollar smile, throwing a thumbs up and a wide smile towards the papparazzi. Yea, that’s right take pictures of a woman eating yogurt. Fuckers. 

“You really are something else,” her agent chuckles as she walks towards the building. 

 

END.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little dabble I did after my dream.  
> She was literally eating Go-gurt on the red carpet it was really funny.  
> Note: I don't really like writing RPF but this opportunity was too good to pass up.  
> Any comments are welcome as always! Thank you!! :)


End file.
